Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind. The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake: Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Enter Philostrate. Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.1 The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. || Enter Prologue. Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to content you, The actors are at hand; and, by their show, The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. Lys. He hath rid his prologue, like a rough colt, he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: It is not enough to speak, but to speak true. Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue, like a child on a recorder ;2 a sound, but not in government. The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion, as in dumb show. This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, 'Presenteth moonshine: for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which by name lion hight,3 The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright: And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall; 'Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain: Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall, And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain : Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast; And, Thisby tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse, while here they do remain.' [Exeunt Prol Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine. The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. เ Wall. In this same interlude, it doth befall, That I, one Snout by name, present a wall: And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. The. Pyramus draws near the wall; silence! Enter Pyramus. Pyr. Ogrim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art, when day is not! O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, 'I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, 'That stand'st between her father's ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine [Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for eyne. this! 'But what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss; 'Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me!' The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me, is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you :-Yonder she comes. to spy Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; And like Limander am I trusty still.' This. And I like Helen, till the fates me kill.' This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.' Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?" This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.' Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; 'And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.' [Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning. Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows: and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. The. If we imagine no worse of them, than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. Enter Lion and Moonshine. Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.' The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The. True; and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord: for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose. The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon pre sent:' Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference. Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present; 'Myself the man i' th' moon do seem to be.' The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: How is it else the man i' th' moon? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle: for, you see, it is already in snuff. Hip. I am aweary of this moon: Would, he would change! The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane: but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. Thy mantle good, 'What, stain'd with blood?" 'Approach, ye furies fell! O fates! come, come; 'Cut thread and thrum ;2 Quail, crush, conclude, and quell !" 3 The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear: Which is-no, no-which was the fairest dame, That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.4 Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass. Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by star-light.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. (3) Destroy. (4) Countenance. Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily brows, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks, 'Come, blade, my breast imbrue; And farewell, friends;Thus, Thisby ends: 'Adieu, adieu, adieu.' [Dies. The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too. Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance, between two of our company? The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had play'd Pyramus, and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. [Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatch'd. This palpable gross play hath well beguil'd The heavy gait of night.-Sweet friends, to bed.A fortnight hold we this solemnity, In nightly revels, and new jollity. SCENE II-Enter Puck. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, [Exeunt. Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in wo, In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team, From the presence of the sun, Enter Oberon and Titania, with their Train. Obe. Through this house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf, and fairy sprite, Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing and dance it trippingly. Tita. First rehearse this song by rote: SONG, AND DANCE. Obe. Now, until the break of day, Shall upon their children be.- And each several chamber bless, Make no stay; Puck. [Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and Train. Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends [Exit. And make us heirs of all eternity. Biron. I can but say their protestation over, So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, That is, To live and study here three years. But there are other strict observances : (1) Dishonestly, treacherously. As, not to see a woman in that term; King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these. jest. What is the end of study? let me know. King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know. Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense; King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. When I to feast expressly am forbid; When mistresses from common sense are hid: King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain: To seek the like of truth; while truth the while Study me how to please the eye indeed, That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks; Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights, Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name. King. How well he's read, to reason against reading! Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding. Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a breeding. Dum. How follows that? Fit in his place and time. mer boast, Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in an abortive birth? At Christmas, I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;2 But like of each thing, that in season grows. So you, to study now it is too late, Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. And, though I have for barbarism spoke more, And 'bide the penance of each three years' day. Biron. [Reads.] Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court.And hath this been proclaim'd? Long. Four days ago. Biron. Let's see the penalty. [Reads.]-On pain of losing her tongue.-Who devis'd this? Long. Marry, that did I. Biron. A dangerous law against gentility. [Reads.] Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise. This article, my liege, yourself must break; For, well you know, here comes in embassy The French king's daughter, with yourself to speak, A maid of grace, and complete majesty,About surrender-up of Aquitain To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father: Therefore this article is made in vain, Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite forgot. Biron. So study evermore is overshot; While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should: And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost. King. We must, of force, dispense with this decree; She must lie3 here on mere necessity. Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years' space : For every man with his affects is born; Not by might master'd, but by special grace: If I break faith, this word shall speak for me, I am forsworn on mere necessity.So to the laws at large I write my name : [Subscribes. And he that breaks them in the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternal shame: Suggestions are to others, as to me; But, I believe, although I seem so loth, I am the last that will last keep his oath. But is there no quick5 recreation granted: King. Ay, that there is: our court, you know, is haunted With a refined traveller of Spain; A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain: One, whom the music of his own vain tongue Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony; A man of complements, whom right and wrong Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: This child of fancy, that Armado hight,6 For interim to our studies, shall relate, In high-born words, the worth of many a knight From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; But I protest, I love to hear him lie, And I will use him for my minstrelsy. Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. Long. Costard the swain, and he, shall be our sport; And, so to study, three years is but short. Enter Dull, with a letter, and Costard. Dull. Which is the duke's own person? Biron. This, fellow; What would'st? Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's tharborough:7 but I would see his own person in flesh and blood. Biron. This is he. Dull. Signior Arme-Arme-commends you.-There's villany abroad; this letter will tell you more. Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me. King. A letter from the magnificent Armado. Biron. How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words. Long. A high hope for a low having: God grant us patience! Biron. To hear? or forbear hearing? Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to forbear both. Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb in the merriness. (5) Lively, sprightly. (6) Called. |